An Unnatural Second Chance
by Kai-Ree Dahl
Summary: At the end of season 10, we were left with a cliffhanger. Everyone was in trouble or dying. What if a supernatural force decided it was time to intervene? Now, with new powers and new friends, Dean has a chance to change things, hopefully for the better. But with Dean possibly turning into a demon and Sam going missing how will it turn out?
1. Lazarus Rising: Part 1

Hey guys,

I'm testing out a chapter for a new story. I don't know if it's good enough to be posted yet, though. I'd appreciate any feedback you can give me.

Also, If anyone wants to Beta for me, that'd be very welcome. Thanks in advance!

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or the characters. I don't even own a laptop less than five years old. I've never even met Jensen Ackles, Jared Padelecki, or Misha Collins. There is an even long list of things I need but don't have in my browser history, mainly concerning certain Doctors and blogger/sociopaths.

* * *

He was in a dark place, that sadly wasn't new. It seemed like whenever he died or got kidnapped by some unspeakable evil, he was put in a dark room or container. And, to his eternal annoyance, he was usually tied up or in a space to small to move in. He didn't mind being tied up so much, if he had some fun with a kinky lady he'd picked up from a bar/case.

The thing was, this dark space was far too small, far too familiar. He was able to feel the walls around him. They were roughly hewn and uncomfortably close to his body, so much so that he was unable to move his arms past his elbows. With a resigned sigh, he dug around his pocket for something to confirm his theory. He flicked his lighter on.

He was right. He was inside a wooden coffin.

Dean squinted at the ceiling of the coffin. He could smell the dirt around him, encompassing his prison. Well, shit. He was underground as well.

With a jolt, Dean remembered what had just happened, what Death had warned him would happen. He tried to get a look at his hopefully bare arm but the tight quarters caused him to burn himself with the lighter instead. The lighter dropped from his hand and it flickered off.

Not only did he have to almost kill Sam, he also probably caused the end of the world. Awesome.

"Son of a-" he cut himself off as his thoughts turned to his brother.

"SAM!" he tried shouting at the top of his lungs. Maybe if he screamed loud enough, Sam would respond? He subconsciously knew it wouldn't actually work. It was more likely to use his oxygen supply up quicker, than anything.

"Dammit!" Dean cursed, frustrated. They might have gotten the mark off him permanently, he hadn't lost control to the mark and killed his brother, and he'd killed Death. Things were looking good for once. Then, as if sensing too much going right for the brothers, pillars of black smoke (looking like demon smoke) had risen out of the ground and covered the Impala - and the brothers - completely, while he struggled to get his baby to drive. Then everything had gone black. "Dammit!"

Another curse had him punching the roof of the coffin with as much force as he could muster. He hadn't expected much, just a way for him to relieve his frustration, but there was a loud CRACK! and rivulets of dirt began cascading down. Dean froze.

Maybe he wasn't that far underground? His mind knew this was wrong, he could feel it in his bones, but he would grasp onto any sort of hope that he could. How else could he explain the super strength? ...unless the mark was still there. That was a chilling thought that he tried to banish almost immediately.

Dean tapped lightly on the wood above his head causing more dirt to rain down. With a deep breath, he pulls his arm back as far as he can in the enclosed space, and launches his fist forward. CRACK!

The boards broke apart. Piles of dirt came down all at once. He couldn't breath.

Climbing up through the dirt was like trying to swim through jello. For what seemed like forever, he struggled through the soil, and it seemed like he didn't make any progress at all. The eternity he spent underground was punctuated only by a worrying pulse from his arms as his lungs began to burn. After the pulse worked it's way through to his chest, the burn went away and his lungs seemed to fill up with fresh air.

This almost had him pausing in astonishment, but he was distracted by his hand breaking through to the surface.

With one last slight grunt of effort, Dean pulled himself out of the soil and laid out on his back, breathing in deeply.

The sky was clear, save for a few wispy white stragglers. There was nothing to indicate the Darkness that had just burst from the ground and into the sky.

He realized he wasn't panting. The climb out of the coffin should have tired him out, should have made him out of breath, at least. He had just spent about a minute without air, after all. That should have caused some sort of negative reaction.

Then he realized, it had. The burning that was telltale of oxygen deprivation had disappeared just when it had begun to be a problem. It disappeared after that pulse in his arm...right where the Mark of Cain...

With a sudden insane worry, Dean scrambled to take his flannel top off, leaving him in only his black T-shirt and jeans.

He threw his flannel to the ground and brought his forearm up so he could see it in the light.

The skin wasn't raised like a burn anymore, it wasn't red either. The only reason he knew something was wrong was the fact that it was his arm to begin with.

Where once was a bare, tanned, and relatively unscarred skin, there now was a large, barely-there, grey symbol. It was so light on his arm that he couldn't quite make out what it was, but he could tell it was in the exact same place as the Mark. That didn't give him much confidence in the origin of the symbol. It could've simply been the Mark returning.

His plaintive ideas kept getting beat up by each realization that he had. Now he was left with only three, none of them filling him with much hope.

A, he the Mark of Cain was coming back and the powers came from it as it spread it's corruption further. That was ominous in it's own right.

B, he was turning into a demon, the symbol on his arm actually being the first sign of his transformation. Every demon had it's own symbol, after all. Now, he'd never seen the process first had, but he had seen the opposite, even experienced it. A demon's strength was one of the last things to go. Maybe he was almost a demon. This was also a scary theory, especially if it was right.

C, he had been powered up with some sort of super strength, like an angel sigil or something. The thing was, by what/who? Was it a demon, an angel, God? It just didn't bode well, even if it was the theory he hoped most for. That meant he could still trust himself around his brother and Cas.

His brother. That thought had him scrambling up and looking around for where his brother could have been buried.

He looked around in the glaring sunlight and saw a scarily familiar setting. Around his escape route through the dirt, was a perfect circle of dead trees, blown back by some amazing force (i.e. Castiel, the angel of Thursday). It was an exact replica of the day he came back from Hell. Even the headstone was the same, if a somewhat crude wooden cross could be considered a headstone.

What was going on? Why was he here? Was he hallucinating? Was this what the Darkness brought? Did this mean he had to relive all of his failures again?

No, that didn't make sense. He'd already done things differently, punching through the coffin lid, hanging around here a lot longer than before. Those things wouldn't be possible if he was made to relive it. Wouldn't being able to change events be counterproductive? If anything that might make him happier, or at least more stable. It was more of a reward than a punishment.

He paused as a new thought occurred to him. What if they - that is, whoever or whatever was doing this - made it so, no matter what he changed, things would end up the same, or even worse than before.

Dean shook his head. He wouldn't know unless he tried, but should he try? Shouldn't he just give up? That would be the better solution wouldn't it? He could just step in front of a car now, save so much trouble-

What the hell?! Where the hell did those thoughts come from? Since when did he think giving up was a good idea?

With a disturbed look at the new mark on his arm, Dean hazarded a guess as to why. Cas did say that it wasn't a physical mark. It 'transcended,' or something, his physical form. Like it was etched into his soul.

Well, that strengthened theory A. Not a good feeling.

Dean shuddered. It was chilling, to think that the mark might have gotten a stronger hold on his mind.

A growl sounded out loudly from somewhere near him. It was so very close but he couldn't place where it came from. Dropping into a low, ready stance, he groped around his pocket for a weapon. All he came up with was his lighter.

Ok, he'd had less to work with before. He brandished the lit lighter like he would with a torch

He hadn't remembered anything like this happening before. There wasn't anything or anyone here before. He hadn't had to fight after he got back from Hell, at least until he got to Bobby's.

The growl came again, louder.

With eyebrows scrunched in confusion, his eyes were drawn to his own stomach. Another growl.

What the hell? How had he not recognized his own hunger? Dean nearly sagged in relief. He stuck the lighter back into his pocket.

Should he do what he did before? Or should he go another way and hope for a ride?

Shaking his head, he began walking, his grumbling stomach his only company.

* * *

Dean walked down the same empty road he did before. No passing cars, no houses, empty or otherwise, and no people to speak of. His stomach's voice had risen to a roar and it was soon accompanied by an uncomfortable but familiar pain.

He hadn't been this hungry the first time. Had he taken longer to get her than before? That seemed the most likely. This hunger didn't support either theory A or B, as both relied on demonic-like essence, and demons didn't feel hunger.

One point to theory C, then.

He approached the same abandoned gas station with the same two cars, both relatively old and worn. It still looked like no one was there, so that was something.

He pounded on the door anyway.

"Hello?"

Dean looked at his hand for a moment before shrugging and punches the glass.

He looked at his fist, searching for damage. Apart from a couple of scratches, his hand had remained pretty much unmarked.

While cool in general, that also added a point to theory C. Demons and Cain both still bled. It just didn't hurt them when they did.

He stuck his hand through the now clear window and opened the door.

After he stepped inside, his eyes were immediately drawn to food isle, or more specifically, the single serving personal pies.

He wet his lips.

He strode over and quickly devoured one of the pies in question. After about three more of those, his stomach had stopped protested and he began stuffing bags of chips and the rest of the pies into a plastic bag with a few bottles of water.

He stood up and tore open one of the candy bars at the counter. A newspaper sat to one side. Curiosity took over. He wanted to know how far this - whatever it was - went.

True to the continuity, the paper read:

Thursday, September 18th.

"Still September." Dean muttered to himself. It was seeming less like some illusion of torture. He remembered those. There was always something to indicate that the world wasn't quite real. There was always something...

Dean shook his head and headed to the bathroom to answer the call of nature.

He washed his face and hands in dingy sink after finishing up. The sink was attached to a mirror. Dean finally got a good look at himself. It was like looking at a ghost.

He ran a hand along his clean jaw, no stubble impeding the way. He felt around for the invisible scars he'd collected over the years. None were there. There were no burns, no scars, no bruises of any kind. Hell, he wasn't even sunburned from all that walking in the sunlight. He had more weight in his cheeks, like the baby fat he told Sam he had.

His eyes were different, too. They were younger, the very early stages of his crows feet starting to show. There was more life to them, as well. More of a sparkle. His eyebrows were kind of scrunched above his eyes, but the lines on his forehead weren't as prominent as they were the last time he looked.

Overall, he just looked healthier, less stressed.

Dean stared at his new, yet also old face in the dingy gas station mirror. A short pain on his left shoulder causes him to turn it to the mirror. He rolled up his sleeve to reveal a raw version of a large hand print.

He'd forgotten that it had hurt at all, that it had ever looked different. He'd just gone on with the knowledge that he'd have it the rest of his life/death.

Dean walked out of the bathroom with purpose and picked up the plastic bag of snacks and starts walking to the counter.

Something was supposed to happen, he remembered. What was supposed to happen, though? He couldn't quite tell what it was.

He was distracted, however, when he saw a magazine stand. On the stand was his favorite 'adult' magazine, "Busty Asian Beauties." He picked it up, and, smirking, flips through it. He eventually stuffs that into his bag, as well.

He went to the counter and set down the bag. He rounded that corner and hit a single button on the register. The register pops open, to his pleasure.

Was this what happened last time? He could quite place the exact details. He took a couple of twenties but left the rest where it was. He stuffed the procured bills into his back pocket.

Then, the radio turns on.

Dean stands there staring confusedly at the radio for moment, trying to remember what happened next. Finally, he shut it off. Only, instead of the gas station going silent again, another radio turned on, this time to static. Frustration getting the better of him, Dean turns that one off as well with a little to much force, causing the dial to crack slightly. The TV went on next. His eyes widened.

He knew what was going to happen next.

He dove to the floor as a high-pitched sounds bursts through the air. The glass in the windows and TV both shatter at the sound. However, unlike last time, Dean's ears weren't bleeding from the noise. Instead, he winced and clutched at the headache this sound was giving him. He could almost understand the shrieking for words. It was barely there but he could make out a few. Before he could distinguish the whole message, the sound cut out, as did his headache.

That was an angel speaking, wasn't it? Dean realized. And not just any angel, Castiel, the angel of Thursday.

Dean almost smiled at that thought.

* * *

Dean inserted a coin to the phone in the banged up little phone booth and he dialed a number. Unlike last time, he went straight to Bobby's. He couldn't quite remember what Sam's phone number was, but Bobby's was one he'd remember.

The phone only rings once before it's picked up.

"Yeah?" The gruff voice on the other end says.

Dean nearly sobbed, hearing that voice again, after so long. He struggled to keep his emotions in check.

"Bobby?"

"Yeah?" The voice repeated.

"Hey, uh, it's me." Dean stuttered slightly. Remembering what had happened last time.

"Who's 'me'?" Bobby asked, annoyed.

"It's me. Dean." He waited patiently for the hang up.

Just like before, the dial tone sounded through the phone. Dean hung the phone back on it's perch. He didn't call again. He knew better.

Dean turned and saw on of the beat up old cars in the parking lot. The same old, beat-up white car, parked in the same spot. He hot-wired the car and quickly pulled away from the gas station. He wanted to get as far away from there as possible.

* * *

He'd driven for about ten minutes in the wrong direction, or right direction if you thought about it.

Bobby's was up in Sioux Falls, but Sam was in Pontiac. Or at least he used to be.

The sleazy motel he'd stayed at when they'd found him was lacking a distinctive '67 Chevy Impala. He already had the room number, or at least the location (numbers really weren't his thing), but he was hesitant to go up there.

Last time, the only thing to keep Sam from killing him was Bobby's word. Without Bobby, this would end badly.

Add that with the fact that it looked like Sam had already left and the picture painted wasn't a very useful one.

With a sigh, Dean climbed out of the car and walked up the steps to the crappy room, reminiscent of those he'd stayed in with his father and brother.

He knocked on the door with all the authority he could muster, which wasn't all that much to be honest.

A woman opened the door, but not the one he expected. He knew he looked like he'd seen a ghost, and not the good kind.

* * *

AN: Hey, as I said before, this is just a test chapter. If I get good reactions, then I'll start posting the other chapters. However, I'd like some feedback.

Was it good? Bad? Does it need more editing? Should I add more detail? Less?

And tell me who you think the mystery woman at the end of the chapter is!

This just a small update.

Love,

Kai


	2. Lazarus Rising: Part 2

AN: Hey y'all. Chapter two and thanks to my first reviewer. I'll try to stay on top of updates and such, but I make no promises. School starts on Oct. 5 but I'll probably be going to the library a lot.

Anyway, thanks again.

Disclaimer: Dudes, if I owned Supernatural, Destiel and Sabriel would be legit pairings. Sad that they aren't, huh?

* * *

Standing at about 5'5", a long, red haired Charlie Bradbury stood in the door of the motel room, staring up at him.

"Can I help you?" she asked a little confusedly. He blinked at her.

What was she doing there? Not that he wasn't happy to see her, he was thrilled. But he expected his brother or the Bitch. Or just somebody, anybody but her really.

He still began tearing up a bit at the sight of the familiar perky redhead that he'd had to put to rest.

Charlie's eyes had widened in panic as his eyes had filled with (manly) tears. She began searching for someone to help with the crying person, obviously having no idea what to do.

"Um, uh, um, are you, uh, all right, sir?" She asked tentatively, no doubt finding no one else around.

If anything, this made his eyes tear up more (he wasn't the one tearing up, Dammit! His eyes had a mind of their own). He sniffled involuntarily and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

Charlie sidled up next to him, a slight hesitant look on her face, and reached her hand to his shoulder, like she wanted to pat him there, but she paused mid way through and awkwardly looked at her hand like she didn't quite know what to do with it.

"Sorry." Dean told her. He wasn't just apologizing for the tears (because he wasn't crying, dammit!), but for everything he'd ever put her through. "Wrong room." He quickly turned his back and began to flee.

"Hey!" Charlie's voice rang through the hallway. Dean paused in his escape and turned back around.

The girl in question strode up to his frozen form and gazed up into his eyes. She looked like she was trying to remember him from somewhere.

"It's...it's okay." Charlie tried out. She'd obviously never done something like this before. "Um, do you need, like, a hug or something?"

She opened her arms and rushed forward, not waiting for an answer. She wrapped her arms tightly around his waist and buried her head in his shoulder.

This hug was so familiar that Dean's arms were moving before he told them to. One hand clutched her back as his head burrowed into her red locks, messing it up slightly. The other hand came up to the back of her head, almost in slow motion. It was as if the universe was telling him not to touch her head. However, the universe was a bit late to the program, seeing as he couldn't change course.

As soon as his hand came in contact with her head, he understood why the universe was yelling at him.

Charlie stiffened, as if being electrocuted. Her skin, or at least the veins underneath it, began glowing with a pale white light. Her head was tilted back slightly, eyes and mouth open, both glowing white.

Dean released her and stepped back in horror, noticing as he did so that the same white light running through her was flowing from his arm. His desperation had killed Charlie again, only this time it was directly by his hand as opposed to her trying to cure him and getting killed for her efforts.

After a minute or so of glowing, Charlie's skin suddenly went back to normal, if a little pale. Charlie herself collapsed bonelessly, almost hitting the floor. Dean caught her before she could face-plant and clutched her slumped, limp body close.

He nearly sobbed in relief when he could feel her steady breathing against his shirt.

He glanced around to make sure no one would freak out as he picked her up in his arms and cradled her to his chest. He strode quickly through the open door of Charlie's room and gently laid her down on the bed.

As she laid there, he couldn't help but think that she looked like she did after Blackbird motel. She was pale, almost too pale. She looked lifeless, almost like one of those porcelain dolls he'd seen before.

Her hair was as long as it had been the first time they'd met, and just as red, but she didn't have the bangs yet. Her face was just as young as his, with fewer stress lines and fewer scars, however light they were. She looked good, healthy, happy. Her face held no signs of ever having met him or being dragged into the crazy life he led.

Dean gently brushed a few hairs away from her face.

With a slightly twitch of the eye and a bat of the hand, Charlie pushed Dean's hand away from her face.

"Charlie?" Dean called softly, hopefully. Her eyes squinted open slightly. She groaned.

"Dean? What..." She paused to sit up and grab her head. Dean had frozen in shock when she'd said his name. "Ugh. Why does my head feel like I got hit by a bludger?"

"Charlie, you know me?" He asked hopefully. He knew it couldn't be possible, yet she'd said his name. However, she hadn't acknowledged her relationship to him before, why would she suddenly start now? Did it have something to do with that light? Was that some kind of transfer-y thing (what kind of word is that, 'transfer-y thing?' That's a crap name for it) or something? Maybe it had something to with the new mark on his arm.

"What do you mean? Of course I know you." Charlie said, sounding slightly insulted. "You're like the annoying brother I never had."

"Charlie!" Dean exclaimed with the first smile he'd had all day, even with the slight insult. He surged forward and clutched her gently to him (super strength was a Bitch. He didn't want to accidentally overdo it and crush her or something) in an awkwardly positioned hug. Charlie's arms came up and threaded around his back tightly.

"Not that I don't like the hug," she started (of course she loved the hug, he was Dean freaking Winchester. His hugs were awesome), pulling back, "But what's this all about?" Dean lightly cradled the red head's face in his hands and looked deeply into her eyes.

"Charlie, what's the last thing you remember?"

"Um..." She thought for a moment. Her eyes lit up when she remembered and then dimmed, just as quickly. "I was at the Blackbird motel. A man was trying to get into my hotel room. Um, I ran into the bathroom and sent you guys my notes and then I smashed my tablet into the sink. He heard me and came in, I had a knife and he only had one arm. I couldn't fight him off, though. He took the knife from and he...stabbed me. I should've died," She realized. "Why am I not dead? Did you and Sam save me? Or was it Castiel?"

Dean shook his head slowly and shut his eyes tight.

"No, Charlie. We - when we got there you were - it was too late. I'm so sorry, Charlie. I'm so sorry." He pulled her into another hug, this time kissing her head. His only way of apologizing to her.

"Wait, if I'm dead, then how can we talk?" She asked in confusion, completely ignoring the fact that Dean had just told her she'd died.

"I don't really know." Dean replied, rubbing the back of his head. "But I think it has to do with time travel, or something like that." Her eyes had gone wide in excitement.

"Is the Doctor real?! Did you meet him?!" Charlie's eyes widened even further. "Is that how I'm alive? Did you change the past? Do we have to worry about the reapers now?! Oh no, Dean! But the Doctor's here! Yeah!"

"Uh," Dean wasn't quite sure how to answer that. "I don't think so..."

Charlie slumped in disappointment.

"Well, obviously a time turner is out. You can't change the past with one of those. Plus, all of them were smashed at the Ministry in book 5." She began muttering theories to herself as Dean rolled his eyes fondly at her (trust Charlie to think about which one of her fandom universes are real when time travel's involved.).

"Do you notice anything about where we are? About me?" He prompted with a slight smile. She looked closer at his face, wonder and bafflement clear upon her own.

"What? But, you look so much younger! Well, not much younger, I guess." She added at Dean's offended look. She looked herself over as well, quickly noticing the length of her hair. "I'm younger, too!" The motel room that she laid her eyes on, however, was so typical of it's kind that it was a lot harder to place when she'd been there. "Where are we, exactly?"

"Pontiac, Illinois."

"Pontiac?" She thought for a moment. "I think I passed through here about seven years ago for comic-con."

Dean nodded slowly. "Yeah that lines up with my theory. Hell." He prompted at her slightly lost look.

"Oh?" She suddenly remembered the books she'd read on the two brothers. "Oh! I guess you did have to get out of Hell at some point. Not that I thought you'd take a long time to do it! It's just the books kind of cut off after you get sent there and a lot of people jump to the conclusion that you don't get out."

"Why did Chuck have to write those stupid books?" Dean cursed in his head (seriously Chuck? Seriously?).

"They aren't on the internet yet, you could still burn them like you wanted to." Charlie placated with a sympathetic half-smile. "Wait, I still don't understand how I got here."

"I sort of came here looking for Sam." He told her, rubbing the back of his head. "Last time around he was here with Ruby, a demon." He clarified at Charlie's confused look.

"That demon?" She asked, shocked. "Sam's working with a demon?"

"I know. Really insane," Dean agreed, "but to him the reasons were right."

"Talk about a big change." She muttered. She cleared her throat and sat up straight. "So, it's seven years ago. What were you doing at this time?"

"Uh, I was headed to Bobby's." Her eyes lit up.

"I finally get to meet the famous Bobby Singer!" She jumped up from the bed excitedly and hopped around happily.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!" Dean protested. "Who said we going to Bobby's?"

"Well, obviously you have to keep some semblance of continuity," she explained as if he was an idiot, "otherwise knowing the future would be pointless. You'd change things too much."

"Okay." Dean conceded her point. "I suppose you have a point. But who said you were coming with me?" She gave him a deadpanned look.

"You think you have a choice. That's cute." She grabbed her travel bag and laptop from where they sat on the desk in the corner. "Are you coming?" She called from the doorway.

Dean stared after her for a moment before rolling his eyes and, with a fond smile, followed after her.

line-break line-break line-break line-break line-break line-break line-break

Dean climbed out of Charlie's beat up yellow Hugo, grimacing at the vehicle with distaste. Said car's owner saw his grimace and scowled at him.

"Not all of us can have the SSV Normandy of cars." She complained. He grinned at her inadvertent compliment (hell yeah! his baby deserved the complements. she was a classy chick).

As he led her through the rusty car-filled lot, Charlie's face screwed up in clear confusion (understandable).

"I didn't expect him to live in a junk yard." She admitted, sheepishly.

"That's Bobby," Dean told her. "Always has something to do if he's ever bored. Always planning ahead." (Not to mention it gives him the least likely position in the world for a badass researcher/hunter.)

When they were within view of the house but out of hearing range, he slowed himself and his newly acquired ( read: reluctantly brought along) partner to a stop.

"I need you to stay outside until I call you in, okay?" Charlie gave him a confused look.

"What? Why? We're in this together, Dean!" She looked so mad and betrayed, he almost caved. He was doing this for her safety, though.

"I know, but Bobby doesn't know I'm not a demon or a monster, yet. He's gonna attack me on sight." He rested his hands gently on her shoulders. "I don't want Bobby to hurt you by accident." She pouted but nodded in acquiescence.

"Are you gonna, you know..." She pointed to the back of her head.

"I don't know how it works exactly." He admitted, rubbing the back of his own head. He had explained what happened before she'd woken up. She'd accepted it with remarkable aplomb that only Charlie was capable of and had begun spouting theories similar to theory C. Would the Metaforá (her name for the light show, not his. Though he had to admit it was a lot better than 'transfer-y thing') only work on Charlie, though? If so, why would it only work on her?

What even caused it? If he touched the back of anybody's head would they suddenly remember the future? Or was it just a select few people? How were people chosen, then?

And why was he still thinking in 'maybe's? He sighed at his subconscious way of procrastinating.

With a deep breath, Dean trekked through the final portion of the rusty car maze and made it onto the porch. He turned around to make sure that Charlie was still where he told her to be. The pouting red head was easy to spot next to a beat up blue ford (good, she stayed where I told her).

Dean turned back to the door with resignation, and pounded on the wood of the door as if it had offended him. He winced as some of the doorframe became detached (maybe cut back a bit on the strength there, Hulk?).

The door opened.

* * *

Bet you didn't expect Charlie!

Well, even I didn't expect Charlie until I wrote it. I liked the suggestion of Lisa, but honestly, what would Lisa being doing in a crappy, sleazy motel? She lives in the 'burbs for Pete's sake! She's more likely to check into a Hampton Inn or something. Not to mention Ben.

Well, anyway. Until next time. Please review.

Kai


	3. Lazarus Rising: Part 3

AN: I'd like to thank the two people who commented on my story. Thank you for the compliments. I hope to finish this story by next Summer and I intend for a sequel as well.

Question: What do you think happened to Sam? Where is he? What's he doing? Anything you say could influence the way my story goes.

Disclaimer: I sadly don't own Supernatural. If I did, Charlie, Bobby, and many others wouldn't have died.

* * *

The door opened (was that an ominous creak from the door?).

Bobby stood in front of him, hand on the door. Dean stood in front of him, trying to look as non-threatening as possible. He smiled cautiously, trying to reduce his surrogate father's suspicion. Sadly, this only made him more uncertain.

Dean was aware that he looked rather haggard and he still had dirt all over him, but he hoped that would help assuage the older man's fears.

"Surprise." The snarky words came out of his mouth before he realized they did. Almost immediately, he wanted to slap himself.

"I, I don't..." Bobby stuttered in shock and apprehension.

"Yeah, me neither," Dean told him, figuring it was just easier to rehash the words he'd used before. "But here I am."

Dean heard rather than saw the knife Bobby was hiding behind his back. And for some reason, he could smell that it was a silver knife, in particular (Another point to theory C). This time around Dean let Bobby back up in the hallway without getting to close.

Dean knew where the demon traps were, but he made it a point not to look at them as he stepped into one. Almost as if expecting to be stopped, Dean paused before taking a step out of the trap. Thankfully, Bobby didn't notice his hesitation.

Instead the old man was lunging forward, slashing his knife at Dean.

Dean heard the blade swish down at his head. He leaned his body back.

The knife missed his nose by an inch. Bobby's face scrunched up in confusion but he swung his knife at Dean again.

Dean leaned back again.

Bobby was more frustrated now than confused. He tried to slash at Dean's middle this time, with the same results.

This pattern repeated itself around the living room of Bobby's house. Bobby would stab at Dean. Then, Dean would dodge the knife but wouldn't retaliate, even when Bobby left wide openings.

Finally having enough, Dean stood with a chair between him and Bobby.

"Bobby. It's me." He told the older man calmly.

"My ass!" The man was just as gruff as he had been all those years ago. Dean wanted to roll his eyes.

Dean sighed deeply before entering into his spiel. "Your name is Robert Steven Singer. You became a hunter after your wife got possessed, and you're about the closest thing I have to a father, Bobby."

Bobby lowered the knife (like last time), and stepped forward slowly (like last time). He placed a hand gently on Dean's shoulder as if trying to feel evidence of him being a shape shifter beneath his hand.

Not finding anything, he slashed again at Dean.

This time (that is to say, 'this time he slashed at me') Dean doesn't dodge. He was testing his heeling protection or whatever (Charlie should probably come up with a name for that, too) as well as testing his restraint. During the entire fight, Dean had been warring with instinct and protecting Bobby. For some reason, the older man was now resonating as 'pack.' Maybe the powers had something to do with wolves?

The knife slashed across Dean's chest, leaving only a light cut. The wound wouldn't need anything more than a band aid, and even that was debatable.

Bobby stared at the new wound on Dean's chest with incredulity. Dean held his hands up in a placating manner.

"I'm not a shape shifter, Bobby. Or a Revenant." Dean assured. The older man was obviously quite shaken.

"Dean?" Bobby asked as if talking to a ghost (which is probably as good a reaction as I'm gonna get).

"Yeah. Hey Bobby." Dean talked to him as if the man hadn't just lunged at him with a knife.

Bobby broke out of his tentative spell, and grabbed Dean in for a tight hug. Dean returned the hug with as much enthusiasm as he could. As they hug, Dean considers his options.

Should he risk it? Bobby had spent so much time in Heaven and Hell that it might just damage him. Or it could just not work.

On the other hand, what if it did work? What if Bobby came back? If he didn't try, then he ran the risk of having him back, but if he did, and it didn't work, he ran the risk of looking silly.

Alright then.

Dean brought his hand to the back of Bobby's head, being careful of the trucker cap. He clutched the man there lightly and watched with apprehension as the same phenomena from before repeated itself.

As the man collapsed in his arms, Dean released a shaky breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"Whoa..." Charlie's voice from the window startled Dean into turning around and almost dropping the older man.

"Charlie, I told you to stay there until I called you over." He reprimanded.

"But it was quiet for a long time and I was getting worried." She noticed his look. "Ha! You think your superpowers are the be all end all? No. All superpowers/heroes have at least one weakness. Bobby could have accidentally found it and killed you!"

Dean pause at her reasoning. He finally shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Get in here and help me get him onto the couch."

LINELINELINELINELINELINELINELIEILINELINELINELINELLEINLEINLIEN

It took Charlie and Dean a little over 10 minutes to maneuver Bobby onto the couch. Even with Dean's apparent super strength, carrying a limp, bulky human being was tough. Charlie was mainly making sure none of Bobby's limbs were laid under him and making sure that Dean didn't get too frustrated (it was like trying to solve a puzzle. I hate puzzle, they're freakin' annoying).

Finally, after they were both sure the older man wasn't about to fall off, their job was done. Dean sighed and fell into one of the kitchen chairs with Charlie not far behind him.

"How long did it take me to wake up?" She asked after several minutes of rather long and boring silence.

"I don't know. About a half hour, maybe? Why?" She groaned into her hands.

"This is boring and my computer's in the car." At his raised eyebrow she defended, "What? I want to scan the books onto my hard drive." Dean looked around at the towering bookshelves with old tomes spilling out.

"That's going to be a long project, don't ya think?" She shrugged and smiled.

"Yeah, but my monster lore and stuff isn't as good as yours, so I might as well brush up for future hunts and stuff." He sighed at her insistence.

"Well, why don't you go get it?" She gave him a look.

"I can't leave you here on your lonesome. You're just as bored as I am!"

"Alright! You go get your laptop and I'll go find something to do. Just go!" He lowered his voice nearly a whisper. "Your jitteriness is freakin' annoying."

As Charlie nearly bolted for her Hugo, Dean foundered around for a moment for something to do.

The TV was in the corner, wires pouring out of the back and tools scattered around the floor. Bobby was clearly in the process of repairing it or whatever it was Bobby did.

Dean knew that Bobby had a perfectly fine TV in the basement but he would try to fix the hell out of this one first. Dean also knew that Bobby wouldn't be able to fix this particular TV, without taking the other one apart.

An idea came to him as he studied the blank face of the welding mask. A particular Walkman/EMF detector cam to mind.  
A slow smile built on Dean's face as a plan formed.

LINELINELINELINELINELINELINELINEILENLEINLEINLIENLINELNELINELINELN

Bobby woke to the sound of quiet clicks and a slight rustle. He opened his eyes to see the familiar fading ceiling he'd lived in the majority of his life.

It was also the ceiling of the house that he'd almost been burned alive in almost a year ago. By those Leviathan bastards.

The ambient noise of the clicking and rustling suddenly stopped.

"Bobby?" A familiar Winchester's voice spoke up. Bobby tilted his head to face the room.

"You, idjits." Bobby groaned as he sat up. "What did you do now?"

Dean sat in front of him on the floor, surrounded by tools and TV parts. He had something in his hands that resembled a radio that had been skinned. Next to him, sitting on a kitchen chair, was a red haired young woman. The woman had one of his books open on the table and a small scanner in her hand.

"What're you doin' to my books?!" He sat up quickly and attempted to get off the couch. Instead, he saw stars as he got lightheaded.

"Whoa, hey, Bobby." Dean tried to pacify the older man. "She's not hurting your books. She's just scanning them. It puts them onto her computer or something."

"It's an handheld HD scanner." Charlie clarified with an eye roll at Dean. "I scan a page and it enters it into an SD card. I have two cards; I scan a book onto one card and while that one downloads onto my computer, I scan another book. No damage to you property." She gave him a friendly and innocent smile.

Their defense helped placate Bobby somewhat but the mechanic was still rather wary.

"Boy," he said irritably, " The last thing I remember is getting shot an' givin' you boys the coordinates for Dick Roman's factory."

Dean froze in front of him but Bobby ignored that for the more pressing issue.

"What did you two idjits do now? Did one of ya make another deal with a demon?" He glared suspiciously at Dean. "You better not've."

"Uh, no, Bobby." Dean assured rather shakily. "No one made a deal - is that really the last thing you remember?"

"'Course. And stop tryin' to change the subject." Bobby reprimanded with a glare. "Where's Sam? An' who's the girl?"

"Um, Charlie," the red head spoke up. "Charlie Bradbury. I'm a big fan." She put her computer and scanner down and reached her hand out to him.

Bobby stared at it dubiously for a moment before taking it in his own hand firmly and shaking it.

"What d'ya mean a big fan, kid? You a hunter?" The girl began answering with a large smile.

"Yep, I -"

"More like apprentice hunter." Dean interrupted with a wry grin at the girl. Bobby glanced surreptitiously between the two, suspicions forming. Those were put away, though, when Dean turned to him with a serious look on his face. "You missed a lot Bobby."

"What d'ya mean?" Dean took a deep breath

"It's been about four years since you died."

"...What?" Dean let out a short, humorless laugh.

"As for Sam, well, why don't you get comfortable, Bobby? This is where it gets complicated."

* * *

Have a good day.

Kai


	4. Lazarus Rising: Part 4

AN: Hey y'all. I'm excited. Episode 1 is done. Over. Finished.

WOOOOHOOOO!

Now, I want to extend my sincerest thanks to my kind reviewers. I also want to ask them to be patient the next few days. My classes start tomorrow and they're five hours each. I might be able to update mornings but I don't know for sure.

Disclaimer: All generic disclaimers apply. All opinions expressed are 99.44% true. All rights reserved - but some wrongs are still available. Etc...

* * *

"Balls!" Bobby exclaimed once the explanation was over. "You boys make it a point ta find the biggest bad you can find, don't ya?" Dean's only response was to sheepishly rub the back of his neck.

"Yep. Dean and Sam either find or make problems wherever they go." Charlie agreed. Dean mock scowled at the both of them.

"Well, screw you, too." Dean crossed his arms resolutely. Bobby let out a reluctant chuckle at the younger (well actually older if you add the years in Hell) man's face.

"I'm still confused where Sam is, though." Bobby said. "You boys, throughout all yer problems, stuck together, sometimes with more family," He gestured to himself and Charlie who smiled. "But for some reason, Sam ain't here. Why?"

"I can't find him." Dean admitted. "I checked the motel he was at last time, but no dice. I found Charlie instead. Then we came here." Bobby looked to be in thought for a moment.

"What did you do last time? Didn't ya have ta call the phone company 'r something?" Dean nodded in realization. A slow smile building on his face.

"Yeah, I did. Charlie, toss me that phone, would you?" He paused before dialing the number, praying to whatever Gods were listening that this worked.

"Yeah, hi, I have a cell phone account with you guys, and uh, I lost my phone. I was wondering if you could turn the GPS on for me." There was a pause as the guy on the other end spoke. "Yeah. Name's Wedge Antilles. Social is 2-4-7-4. Thank you." He gestured Charlie to bring up the phone tracker on her computer.

"Wedge Antilles?" Charlie asked, eyebrows raised in amusement. "I mean I thought Sam was a closet nerd but this is just...wow."

"I know." Dean smirked as the location of the phone pinged. "At least I'm open about my likes, but Sam is sadly in the closet about them."

Charlie paused there and turned an incredulous stare to him. "What?"

"Nothing." She turned back to the computer with a smirk on her face. He looked at her suspiciously for a moment before returning his attention to the computer. Bobby shook his head at the both of them.

"So where is he?"

"It looks like," Charlie looked the map over for a moment. "It looks like he's at Lainy's Diner in Monroe, South Dakota. It's only 30 minutes away."

"Huh, I guess things have already changed, haven't they." Dean mused as he stood up and grabbed his keys. "Charlie, you stay here and log books or whatever it is you're doing."

"I'm studying!"

"Whatever. Bobby, you coming?" Bobby rolled his eyes but nodded.

"What do ya think caused the boy to go to a diner in Monroe?" He finally asked, once they had gotten on the road. "The boys with demon girl of his right now, innit he? Shouldn't they've followed the trail to Pontiac?"

"I don't know, Bobby." Dean said, shaking his head. "But I also woke up with superpowers so I'm not holding to the 'everything is gonna be the same' theory." Bobby gave him a deadpanned look. "Alright, maybe the Bitch felt something different and decided to keep Sam away from me. Or maybe I spent to long in Pontiac. I honestly don't know."

"But you know Sam." The older man replied stoutly.

"Not this Sam." Dean shook his head again. "This Sam is a blood junkie who's sole focus is revenge. He's gone a bit off the reservation, but then, I can't really talk, can I." Bobby looked at him like he was an idjit.

"You boys are morons." he said instead. "One of ya's always doing something to piss the other off."

"I'm not pissed off, Bobby." At the older man's snort Dean continued. "Well, not anymore. It's in the past and I think all the shit I've done kind of makes up for it. Besides, if this transfer continues working, it won't matter."

"Yer takin' this a lot easier than I thought you'd be."

"I've had time to grow up." Dean replied. "Also, I feel a lot calmer since I got here, or at least less angry. It's like a weight off my chest."

"That mark of yers," Bobby began slowly, "The new one, where'd it come from?"

"Honestly, I'm hoping it's just useful backlash from what Cas did to cure me. Anything else holds some kind of hook, ones that I don't really want to think about."

"Well, innit that ominous."

The two fell into a thoughtful silence, both thinking about the possibility of time travel and it's ramifications. Something was bound to go wrong, that was just a fact of life for the Winchester brothers.

Dean just had a really bad feeling that it all centered around his brother.

LINELINELINELINELNELINELINELNELINELNELNEINELNEINENLE

They pulled to a stop in front of Lainy's Diner. The parking lot was rather sparse, but it was easy to see that no gorgeous, black, '67 Impalas were around. In fact, all the cars there were rather beat up trucks and a junker.

Bobby's truck fit right in.

"I'm gonna call Charlie." Dean informed his passenger, with a confused look at the lot. The phone rang twice before Charlie picked up.

"Singer Salvage yard, singing at your salvage since 1951. This is Charlie Bradbury. How may I serve your singing salvage needs today?" A rather smug voice trilled from the other end of the line. Dean rolled his eyes and smirked.

"Hey Charlie. Is Sam still at Lainy's Diner?" There was a pause.

"Yep. He's still inside. Why?"

"I don't see the Impala."

"Do you think he sold it?" She asked innocently.

"Blasphemer. Besides, he knows I'd come back from the dead and kill him if he did. Anyway, thanks Charlie. We're gonna check it out. Talk to you later."

"He still inside?" Bobby asked as he put his phone (kindly donated to him by Singer Salvage Co.) away.

"According to the tracker." Dean sighed. "It might be screwed up by Ruby's magic shit, but I wanna check it out just in case. You game?"

"'Course I am." Bobby scoffed, offended. "You idjits get into too much trouble without me."

Dean let out a short bark of laughter and climbed out. The began walking toward the diner the diner when he itched his cheek. His hand came away and Dean realized it was completely covered in grease.

"Well, that's just great!" He grouched. He turned to Bobby, frustrated. "You stearing wheels covered in freakin' grease, Bobby!" He grimaced amd tried not to look in the car mirror. "How bad is it?"

The man smirked at his dismayed expression. "Just say yer a mechanic on break, or something. I'm sure no one'll notice it." Dean groaned.  
"Screw you, too." He grimaced as he looked at his reflection in the truck mirror. He sighed. "Well, let's get this over with."

They walked into the diner.

It was a typical diner, that was all Dean was able to say about it. It was a diner he'd probably eaten at at somepoint, but he couldn't remember when.

There were a few ratty lookin' guys with beards (probably the truck owners) who looked up when the door jingled open. But everyone eventually went back to their own business.

He and Bobby took seats at the counter and signaled for the waitress.

"Hey there," she winked at Dean as she smirked. "What can I do for you, sweetheart?"

He couldn't help the flirty look that crossed his face (it's an automatic thing, I swear). "Hi," he paused to looked at her name plate, "Peggy. We're here lookin' for a friend of ours. Tall, shaggy brown hair, probably with a short brunette woman?" Peggy's face lit up with a bright smile.

"Oh yeah! I remember him. He had a salad and a coffee. His friend had fries and a coke."

"When were they here, exactly?" Dean asked smilingly, turning his charm up a notch.

"About two hours ago." She replied with a slightly dreamy smile. Suddenly, she snapped out of it, as if remembering something important.

"Oh, and he forgot his phone. Here." she handed him the flip phone (that was gonna take some getting used to). "Hope that'll help."

"Thank you, Peggy." Dean leaned forward slightly. Bobby rolled his eyes and took the phone form the flirting man.

"I'll be out in the car, idjit." The two at the counter barely acknowledged him, to which he scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"I get off at three, you know." She said with a enticing smile. "If you wanna call me..." Dean grinned like a man about to catch his prey. "Here's my number."

Dean lifted the piece of paper slipped to him and placed it in his pocket. He tipped his 'hat' to her with a smirk and began leaving. The prospect of hot night in with an attractive date on his mind.

However, all those plans changed when a large amount of black smoke funneled into every single person in the diner except him.

Peggy's eyes turned black as her seductive smile shifted to an arrogant one.

"You're lookin' for Sam Winchester, aren't you?" She said, as if lording this information would make him talk.

"Yep." he replied easily (just cause she was possessed was no reason to cause the actual Peggy any harm). The demon blinked, startled.  
"...just like that? You're gonna answer me just like that?" Did she not recognize him (I'm Dean freakin' Winchester, for Pete's sake.)? Then he realized the grease on his face must have covered up any recognizable features.

"Yeah, pretty much." Peggy's face suddenly pouted (rather cutely, if I do say so myself).

"But I had this whole torture thing planned and everything!" She complained. The other demons in the diner rolled their eyes. Obviously this happened a lot around her.

"Sorry to burst you're bubble sweetheart, but I'm a bit of an open book when it comes to the Winchesters." Maybe if he played it off like no big deal, she'd leave Peggy alone and unharmed.

"Well, then why are you looking for him?" She asked with a disappointed frown.

"Winchester has something I want." he told her (not a lie, technically). "I intend to get it back."

"...So you're trying to kill him?"

"No, of course not." He waved off her fears with a slight smile. "I intend to trap him."

All the demons in the diner froze in surprise.

"...What?" Demon Peggy asked, shocked.

"Well, I need information, and the Winchesters are a very good source of it." After a moment, a sly smile crossed her face. She walked up to him with a slight swagger and sway of her hips (What? There's no harm in looking).

"How about a deal, then?" Well that perked his interest.

"What kind of deal are we talking about?" She smiled like the cat that caught the canary.

"When you get Winchester all trapped and squared away, you call me and we can have a little fun." She smiled coquettishly as she draped herself all over him.

"How about this, instead? You and you're buddies get out of these people and when I trap my prey, I'll call you."

"Oh, you drive a hard bargain." She complained, but there was a smile on her face. "Deal."

The kiss was similar to the last deal kiss he'd made, intense and lust driven for the demon. Normally he'd participate, but ... demon. It kind of killed the mood.

She pulled back and grinned.

"What's your name, hunter?" Dean thought quickly and said the first name that came to mind. Thankfully it wasn't his own.

"Nash. Nash Bradbury."

"Well, Nash." She dropped her voice to a sultry whisper. "Pleasure doing business with you."

And with a hand signal, black smoke funneled out of everyone's mouth. Then there was a sincronized collapse.

Dean caught Peggy and laid her gently on the ground, checking her pulse. Thankfully, she was alive. Sadly, Dean wouldn't be enjoying a hot night in with her anymore (oh, well).

He stood up and strode out of the diner casually, like that didn't just happen.

"What took you so long, boy?" Bobby asked with a wry look on his face.

"Oh you know the usual, get a girl's number, she gets possessed by demons, that sort of thing." Dean took a moment to revel in Bobby's surprised face.

"...you boys make it a habit to scare the livin' daylight outta me, don'tcha?"

Dean just smiled winningly.

* * *

"So, Sam's nowhere to be found." Charlie summed up with a grimace. She was sitting on the couch now, laptop on her lap.

"Yep," Dean agreed sulkily from his perch on one of the kitchen chairs. "He never loses his phone. I have a feeling it has to do with the Bitch."

"Probably." Bobby said. He was also on a kitchen chair with a beer in his hand. "And now the demon thinks you're this Nash Bradbury.

"Wait," Charlie interupted with a frown. "I thought demons could ID you from your soul or something."

"Normally, they can." Bobby replied with a frown. "But somethin' about this time travel crap screws up demons' sensors. They can't sense us at all."

"Well, why was the demon waitress so cool with it, then?" Dean asked, confusion written accross his face.

"Yer a hunter. Demons gotta figure we've found a way to mask our soul ID card, or something." The older man theorized.

"Huh." Dean settled further into his chair and took a swig of beer.

"Well, Sam's missing and Ruby, you're already at Bobby's." Charlie summarized. "What did you do after that?"

"We talked to a psychic." Dean told her with a frown.

"Pamela." Bobby clarified. "She went blind from seeing Castiel's true form. Burned her eyes out." Charlie winced.

"Let's not do that."

"Agreed."

"Well, what did you do after that?" Dean thought for a moment.

"Well, there was the whole thing with the diner and some demons and finding Sam snuck out. But we can't do that." He pause a slight smile unconsciously drawing itself across his face. "Then we summoned Cas." Charlie grinned indulgently at him.

"Then let's summon Cas." She declared.

"Whoa, hold yer horses there, kid." Bobby intterupted with a flat look. Dean and Charlie both paused in their celebrations. "We gotta make sure this looks real. If this Cas notices we didn't put up protections and symbols then he might report this to his superiors before talkin' to Dean. Us hunters are known for our paranoia." Charlie nodded in agreement while Dean pouted at having to wait.

"So what stuff do we need to do?" The lone female asked curiously.

Dean sighed. "We'll need spray paint. A lot of it."

He hated painting.

* * *

When Dean looked over at him, Bobby was drawing a familiar symbol with white spray paint on the cement floor of the barn. He stood, revealing the rest of his glorious artwork (God, I'm snarky, aren't I? Mwahahahaha!).

Dean stood at a table, putting together the summoning part of this whole charade. A lot of the stuff used in this particular summoning recipe was unnecessary, but hunter's weren't supposed to know about angels and angel summoning rituals.

Charlie was safely sequestered at Bobby's house in the panic room, with piles upon stacks of book to download and hunting methods to research. She would be occupied for a while.

"I got down, traps and talismans from every faith on the globe. How you doin?" The older man asked, though he already knew the answer. Bobby and he had agreed to a script on the off chance that Cas was listening in.

"Stakes, iron, silver, salt, knife. I mean, we're pretty much set to catch and kill anything I've ever heard of." (Hahaha! Not even close.)

"This is still a bad idea." (No, Bobby. You're wrong. This is the best idea ever.)

"Yeah, Bobby, I heard you the first ten times. What do you say we ring the dinner bell?"

Bobby nodded like he was reluctant. He went over to the desk, took a pinch of powder from it's bowl, and sprinkled it into the summoning bowl, which began smoking. Dean took up the chanting in Latin.

Twenty minutes later, Dean and Bobby sat across from each other on the table, playing poker and looking bored.

"You sure you did the ritual right?" Dean recited the line from the script. Bobby gave him a look. "Sorry. Touchy, touchy, huh?"

Right on cue, a loud rattling shook the roof. Dean and Bobby armed themselves with shotguns and took their positions, all the while with Dean trying to keep a straight face.

"Wishful thinking, but maybe it's just the wind." Dean was barely able to keep his voice even. Bobby gave him another look.

The doors burst open and a familiar blue eyed man in a business suit and trenchcoat stalked in. Dean didn't realize until that moment how much he'd missed his friend, even though both had tried to kill each other multiple times (those were extenuating circumstances, dammit!).

As Cas walked to them, the light bulbs above his head shattered in a shower of sparks every time he passed one.

It was all acceptably dramatic.

With a wave at Bobby from past Castiel, the older man collapsed on the ground, shotgun falling limp. Dean winced as his head hit the cement rather hard.

"Who are you?" Dean said, excitement filling nearly every bone in his body.

"I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition." It was odd hearing that line again (again? It was weird the first time).

"Yeah. Thanks for that." (No seriously, Cas. You have no idea how thankful I am.) Dean made a show of glaring at him and checking on Bobby. Thankfully, there was no blood or outward wound.

"We need to talk, Dean. Alone."

"Hell yeah we do." Dean agreed. He rushed forward with a knife like he was going to stab him. Cas made no move to block his knife, just stared at the hand holding it.

Excellent.

With a shift of momentum, Dean switched hands. The knife stopped suddenly, only an inch or so from Cas' stomache, while the other hand kept moving until it was behind the angel's head.

Dean grasped at his black hair tightly.

Cas' eyes shot open with shock as he began glowing brightly. More brightly than either Bobby or Charlie. (Probably because he's an angel and all.)

As the transfer thingy (Metaforá) did it's work, Dean began feeling very strained. He felt like a weight was tied to him or something, or like when that witch took his years and became an old man.

Instead of Cas collapsing in his arms like everyone else had, this time the roles were reversed.

Dean clutched blearily at Castiel's familiar brown trench coat. The world went rather blurry and dim. He longed for sleep

"Dean?" Cas' voice arrived through the fog surrounding his mind. Dean could feel a slight rumble beneath him as arms (are they arms? they might be shoes, for all I know) hefted him up slightly. "Dean?"

"Mmm." The human's eyes closed as he tried to go to sleep. There was a exasperated sigh from beneath him and then there was a finger on his forehead.

Dean was instantly awake.

"Ah!" He burst up, suddenly and looked around, trying to get his bearings.

"Dean?" It wasn't a question but a statement. The man responded by relaxing and, with a large smile, hugged Cas, tightly (it's a manly hug. Men are aloud to do manly hugs, alright?).

"Cas." The angel hugged him back, a little unsure. Cas pulled back, though, after a moment.

"Dean, are you alright? Are you...better?" He glanced pointedly at Dean's arm.

"Yeah, I think so, but that's not the biggest thing." The human smiled mysteriously.

"Why do I have a feeling you did something impossible?" Cas sounded so resigned that Dean wanted to smile. He had to admit he was a little too predictable.

"Because I think I did."

Cas sighed. This was going to be a long day.

* * *

AN: Alright, episode 1 is complete. I'll begin episode 2 shortly, but classes start tomorrow so be patient.

Anyway, thanks to you reviewer/followers, you're awesome.

Kai


	5. Are You There, God?: Part 1

AN: Sorry this chapter took so long. Classes are hell, but like fun hell. Or maybe I just like torturing myself?

Either way, I'm also sorry to add, that this is about how often you'll get updates now. They might get longer, though, as the semester progresses.

Any who, hope you enjoy. And please comment. I'd love any feedback you can give.

* * *

Bobby sat at his desk with a pile of books surrounding him. He was attempting to get someone on the phone, but didn't seem to be succeeding. Charlie and Dean sat across from him with Castiel perched on an open shelf behind Dean.

"It is good to see you again, Charlie." Cas said a little awkwardly to the red head.

She beamed and said, "Aw, thanks Cas!" She cooed happily at the bewildered angel. "I knew you cared about me!" Cas' eyebrows drew together as his confusion mounted (this was better than HBO). Dean decided it was time for him to chime in.

"Yeah, Cas." Dean grinned rather devilishly at the angel. "Didn't you know? Charlie's psychic! She knows you care about her." The angel spluttered.

"I - what -"

"Dammit Olivia!" Bobby interrupted the rather one sided conversation with a frustrated yell at the phone (ruining my free show? Thanks, Bobby).

"What's the matter, Bobby?" Charlie asked, a little tentatively (she was still a little intimidated by the mysterious junk yard occupant). Dean disagreed with her caution in this case, as Bobby seemed more scared and frustrated than actually angry.

"D'you remember what happened last time?" He directed this question to Dean, who was rather startled by his sudden acknowledgement. He floundered around for an answer but Bobby beat him to it. "The Witnesses." Bobby prompted.

"Shit!"

"Yeah." The older man agreed grouchily.

"Excuse me?" Charlie broke in. "New girl here. Um, what exactly are these ... Witnesses? Are they some kind of monster or ar they a demon?"

"Neither." Bobby told her with his usual aplomb. "The Witnesses're supposed to be those who have seen or died at the hands of a monster or demon." Bobby trailed off.

"... but?"

"The Witnesses seemed to be representations of those we tried to save from monsters and demons and now feel guilty over their deaths."

Dean replied with a contemplative look. Would the Witnesses change? Dean had failed to save a lot more people than he would have last time. He and Sam had -

Aw shit! Sam didn't know about the Witnesses! Dean panicked for a moment, oblivious to the others stares.

"Shit, shit, shit!"

"Yeah..." Bobby agreed with a strange look at Dean. He dragged the younger man out of his internal musings with a slight shove. "Your brother'll be fine, ya idjit. Much as you hate it, the moron's got a demon on his side." Seeing Dean about to protest, the older man continued quickly. "A demon with ulterior motives, sure. But she wants ta keep him alive. That's all she's good fer." The younger hunter was slightly placated by this but was still glaring slightly. Bobby let out a sigh of relief that that bomb had been defused.

"Getting back on topic," Charlie interrupted with a wary look at both men, "How the hell do we deal with these 'Witnesses,' then?"

"There was a spell we used." Dean told her. "It got rid of them last time."

"Yeah, but we were a bit pressed, then." Bobby corrected with a scowl. "It'll take some time to find it again."

"And you want to check on Olivia." Dean finished with a sigh. Bobby glared at the other man for even thinking about trying to talk him out of it.

"Boy, if you think I'm just gonna sit here an' let Olivia die, you got another thing comin'." Dean pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Bobby, we need to find this spell soon. Charlie's here and while she does have some combat experience," he nodded at the beaming red head, "She's still pretty new to this. As for Cas, I don't know. Are your powers still outta wack?" He directed the question to the angel.

Castiel was quiet for a long time. He considered his palms while fluctuating energy around him (maybe his Grace?). Dean wasn't sure how he knew Cas was doing this (never happened before) but he wasn't complaining. He could feel a slight uncertainty in the angel's energy, something he wouldn't have known with this new set of powers.

"I...I do not believe that my powers are reliable at this point." Cas admitted quietly with a slight grimace. Dean gave him a sympathizing look momentarily before getting back to his point.

"Anyway, Charlie's not really combat ready and Cas is down for the count." Cas frowned here, confused as to the meaning. "And Sam's got no idea what's comin'. Even if he's got a demon bodyguard." he added at Bobby's reproachful look. "Basically, a lot more people are screwed, including you and me, if you go lookin' for Olivia right now."

The two men glared at each other silently.

"Why don't we split up." Charlie suggested after a nod from Cas. The arguing pair stopped glaring at each other to stare at the lone female.

"...What?"

"Why don't we split up, into two teams." She cleared he throat a little nervously. "Two of us go to check on this 'Olivia,' and the other two stay her and look up the spell. That way we don't waste time but we can still check up on Bobby's friend." She cleared her throat again.

"So, what do you think?"

Dean stared at the short red head in amazement. Pulling her into a hug, he kissed her head firmly and smiled into her hair. "Charlie, what would I do without you?"

The girl in question laughed into his considerably broader chest. "You'd totally turn into an unattractive Bellatrix Lestrange." Dean pulled back.

"Hey!" He replied with a smile. "I'd totally pull off that deranged witch look."

"Sure you would..." Dean graced her with a mock-offended look.

"I hate to interrupt this lovely bonding moment," Bobby cut in with a raised eyebrow, "But I like the kid's idea." Cas nodded his head in agreement.

"I will go with Dean to check on this Olivia." He strode out of the house before either Charlie or Bobby could voice their protests.

"Well, now that that's decided," He pulled Charlie in for one last hug before grabbing a bag and heading toward the door.

"Dean!" Bobby called before the other hunter could get out the door. He turned to look at the gruff old man. Charlie had decided that it was an excellent time to begin researching. "Be careful with your angel friend."

Dean sighed, trying to keep in mind that some of the last moments Bobby had had with Cas had been rather lack luster (if throwing someone into a table could be considered lack luster).

"I know, Bobby. But it's been a while since you...died. We've been through a lot more and it's been a long time since that happened to me."

"But it's only been a couple'a months, for me." Bobby replied with a scowl. "Anyway, that's not what I'm talkin' about. Cas' been...off, tense. Somethin' s not right with him."

"You noticed it too?" Dean glanced out the door to his friend sitting in the front seat of Bobby's beat up truck. "I think it has to do with what happened on his end when I lost the Mark. Or with the time travel." He shook his head. "Whatever it is, it must be big. I'll be prepared for the fallout, if need be."

Bobby nodded and sat back down at his desk, taking out a rather large tome.

Cas sat in the front passenger seat with his hands folded in his lap, glaring at the radio. The radio in turn, was blaring a fuzzy mix of rap and classical music. Dean leaned into the window with a smirk.

"Aww, Cas. What did the radio ever do to you?" The angel's scowl deepened.

"It insists on playing these offensive sounds. And why is someone talking to music?" He complained.

"Yeah, rap ain't the greatest, but good lick gettin' any good signal around here. You're better off with just listening to tapes or CDs." He fished through his bag for a moment. "Here. This'll be a lot better to listen to than that."

Cas dubiously slid the proffered tape into the cassette player. A few seconds later, soft jazz filled the car. The angel's scowl melted into a more peaceful expression.

Dean slid into the front seat and tossed the bag into the back, making sure his gun was safely within reach. He turned the truck on and pulled out of the junkyard and onto the highway.

It took to miles of road until Dean finally asked what was on his mind.

"What's wrong?" the words sounded bitter and foreign on his tongue (God dammit, I sound like Sam when I say shit like that). Cas was obviously startled be the question, as he sat blinking at Dean for a few minutes.

"... I don't know what you mean." He replied quietly. Dean scoffed.

"Man, you've been off since we got to Bobby's house, glaring at everything, letting Charlie make the suggestions. Usually you're not afraid to speak your mind and call me a, what was it? Oh yeah. 'Assbutt.' What's up?" Cas released a low breath of air, kind of reminding Dean of and low growl.

"...Everything's different." He admitted.

"Yeah, and that's a good thing, right." Dean tried to point out. "We don't have to go through the same hell we did last time." There was a long pause.

"...I'm not sure if it is a good thing, Dean."

"What?" Dean turned to him, incredulous. "How could it not be a good thing?"

"We were sent back, but we don't know by who. It could be the Darkness, it could be my father, it could even be some ancient evil we don't know about yet. My point is, is that this could either turn into a living nightmare, or a second chance, and I don't know which."

"That's...ominous." Dean tried to laugh it off, to pretend as though those thoughts never crossed his mind. It was hard, nearly impossible, but he was able to fend them off, if only for a short time. "But you seemed more worried about your mojo at Bobby's, then the possibility of an eternal Hell or something."

"My...'mojo,' is strange." he admitted begrudgingly.

"What do you mean strange? Like 'impending doom' strange, or 'who created the platypus' strange?"

"Gabriel created the platypus, actually." Cas admitted with a slight smile. "As I understand it, he was about the mental age of a human four year old, with the power to create something. Micheal made the bald eagle, Lucifer made the fox, and Raphael made the bee."

"... Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle made the bee?"

"Yes, and he was apparently quite proud."

"Huh...The more you know."

"Back on the subject, my Grace feels strange in the sense that there's more to it."

"More? How much are we talkin' here?" Cas considered for a moment.

"I have about the power level of an archangel." Dean's eyes widened in shock.

"What-seriously!?"

"Yes."

"So why didn't you use your mojo back at Bobby's, or now, for that matter, to zap us to Olivia's?" Cas frowned at his hands.

"I have the power of an archangel but the control over it that a fledgling would."

"So, you're like light switch right now? It's either on or off?" The angel raised an eyebrow at his odd metaphor.

"No. It's more like a tap with a broken faucet. I can turn it on and off in increments, but can't control quite how much yet. I wouldn't want to risk turning you into a pile of slop because I use to much power." Dean swallowed thickly at the mention of Dean flavored mush.

"Well, how do we get you trained up? Or me for that matter?" Cas shook his head.

"It will be trial and error, mostly. I only know the basics for controlling and refining Grace, however, I had a lot less power to control. As for you, I believe Bobby has some books on the subject. Or at least something close enough to help."  
"Well, I suppose, we'll cross that bridge when we get there."

Cas nodded his head resolutely. They both knew this was gonna be a long bumpy ride.

The radio spokesperson chimed in. "Buckle up, cowboy. We're in for some rough weather."


	6. Are You There, God?: Part 2

AN: Hey, another chapter. I had an empty day and I had to do something with it.

So, who do you want to come back? Memories or no? Leave your suggestion in the reviews.

Disclaimer: I don't own. Isn't _that_ a _big_ shocker?

Dean entered the house, armed with his salt-filled gun and a iron blade. He was followed closely by Cas, walking with his usual stiffness. Dean could just barely see the tip of his angel blade protruding from his sleeve, while the other hand held a iron bar tightly.

The angel had been reluctant to carry the weapon, but hadn't protested overly much. It probably had something to do with his uncontrollable powers, but Dean was glad for the added protection for his friend. He'd lost enough people, he wasn't going to let it happen again.

"Olivia?" Dean shouted from the doorway of the rather torn apart house. There was a slight rustle and then a crash from the room in the back, probably the bedroom.

Dean gave Cas a silent look and tossed his head in the direction of the kitchen. Cas nodded in acquiescence and headed to the other room.

Dean slunk into the bedroom, careful not to be seen by whatever was in the room.

He was rather surprised to see a bleeding brunette laying within a salt circle with an angry spirit flickering at the edges. Dean was able to see the woman's eyes drifting closed. He'd have to move fast.

Wasting little time, Dean charged the specter as he shot off a salt round into the transparent, floating form.

Sadly, he mistimed his charge and gained a lovely layer of thick, goopy ectoplasm.

"Fuck!" He attempted to get the substance out of his eyes and mouth while still attempting to help Olivia.

Thankfully, Cas was suddenly there. He knelt down next to him with a large first aid kit.

"I heard the shot." The angel said by way of explanation. Dean grimaced and headed quickly to the bathroom to wipe off what ectoplasm he could into the sink.

Dean knew that Cas could only do so much with human healing methods. He'd need clean hands and some alcohol in order to patch Olivia up.

He made a quick stop at the liqueur cabinet and then nearly sprinted to the bedroom.

Inside the bedroom, Cas had taken some rags out of Olivia's homemade first-aid kit and he had them pressed firmly to her stomach. Dean knelt on her other side.

"Do you know how bad?"

"Her organs were pierced." Cas sounded a little strained. "I have been able to repair them somewhat."

"So it's just the cut." Dean muttered to himself as he uncorked the bottle of scotch he'd grabbed. "Do you know if any veins or arteries were hit?"

"No, however she is bleeding out despite my efforts." His voice wavered slightly as he struggled to control his grace.

"Don't try it." Dean told him firmly. "I need you to protect me and Olivia from the ghost if it comes back."

Cas nodded in reply and slowly the tension leaked from his body. Dean took over pressing the wound with the rags.

Cas stood up and grabbed Dean's gun. He was quite clearly uncomfortable with it but it was the best weapon to use while his healing factor was as unpredictable as his healing.

"Okay, Olivia, let's get you patched up." A thought occurred to him as he whetted a new set of rags with alcohol. What about the other hunters in the area? They didn't know yet and they were in just as much danger as Olivia.

He dialed quickly and held the phone to his ear with his shoulder. He'd need both hands to work.

"Hello?" A groggy male voice picked up the phone.

"Hey, this Jed?" Dean winced as Cas fired at the ghost, but it served to get Jed's attention.

"Yeah. What'ya need?" His voice had lost the grogginess (I suppose a gunshot would wake someone up in the morning) and he had a new purposefulness that was in almost every hunter's voice when talking about a victim.

"There's a big shit storm headed your way. They're called the Witnesses. They're ghosts and they take the form of those you couldn't save." There was a long pause and Dean took that moment to rip the duck tap off the roll.

"...Shit. How d'ya know about it?"

"I'm kinda in the middle of it right now." Another gunshot. "Make a salt line, get your salt or iron weapons and stay safe."

"What about saltin' and burnin'?"

"No go. These spirits aren't actually their souls and some of the bodies were already salted and burned. Don't worry, though. Bobby's working on a way to get rid of these bastards."

"Alright." There was some rustling from the other end as Jed moved around his house setting things up. Dean held the rags to Olivia's stomach with duct tape, now. "Can'ya tell me what books I gotta read to find out more about these Witnesses?"

"Sorry, hold on a sec." Dean put the phone down as he shouted to his companion. "Cas, what book would the Witnesses be in?"

"Nostradamus wrote several books on the subject." Cas despite fighting a ghost for several minutes, wasn't even slightly out of breath (At he has this power under control.)

Dean picked the phone back up. "Did you get that?"

"Nostradamus, got it." There was a thump that Dean recognized as a big old book dropping onto a wooden surface.

"I gotta go."

"Wait!" Dean paused in hanging up. "Who are you?" Dean rolled his eyes, annoyed at the inane question.

"Nash Bradbury." he replied sarcastically. He continued on a more serious note. "If you know anyone in the area, tell them what I told you. All hunters near here are targets. Good luck."

He hung up, not interested in anymore small talk, and checked his patient's vitals. She was stable-ish, but she needed a hospital, soon.

"Hey, Cas. How we doin'?"

"I'm fine, Dean." The blonde could hear the eye-roll.

"Well, sorry for worryin'."" Dean grouched with a frown. Cas sighed.

"It is not my power levels that are the problem, Dean." he explained between shots. "It is control that is problematic."

"Okay fine, so you and your tap water Grace can handle it." Cas rolled his eyes again, this time rather fondly.

"Dean-" The angel was interrupted by a quiet gasp from next to Dean.

Olivia's eyes were open and looking around. Dean had to gently push her down when she tried to sit up.

"Don't move." Dean ordered softly. "You're bleeding pretty bad, and I know it hurts a ton, but you're gonna haveta try not to pass out." The barely conscious woman nodded reluctantly.

"Here, this should help a bit." Dean held up the scotch bottle he'd gotten from the cabinet. Her eyes shot up. "Yes this is your good scotch, and no, I won't replace the bottle." She glared slightly at him. "Hey, I used it to save your life, lady. If you're not gonna have any, I'll drink it." He brought the bottle to his lips, as though about to drink from it. She made a quiet sound of protest. "Oh, so you do want some?" He smirked and tilted the bottle slightly so just a small stream of liquid left the bottle. She let out a sigh of contentment.

She was distracted from her relief by the sight of Cas facing off against and ghostly figure she obviously recognized. Her eyes widened in horror.

Dean stood, and grabbed his iron blade. He began slicing at the spirit with the knife but it kept moving back just in time. He made sure to stay within the ring of salt, but as the ghost circled them, looking for an opening, Cas left the circle.

"Cas," Dean protested fervently. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm distracting it." He replied flatly. He obviously knew Dean wouldn't like it, at all.

"What?!"

"I am fine, Dean, as I have said before. However Olivia will not be alright, unless we get rid of this spirit soon." He didn't wait for a reply (that seems to be the pattern nowadays.) The grumpy-looking angel strode out of the room and Dean could feel him shifting his grace slightly.

"Dammit, Cas." Dean sighed, but he waited several minutes for something to happen. After about ten, a large wave of Grace and energy came surging at him, passing over him like a physical wave. The angel came in a minute later.

"It's done."

"What's done?" Dean asked, genuinely confused.

"I purified it and it will not return. We must get her to a hospital, now." Sure enough, Olivia had passed out again and the towels were staining red.

"Shit!" He picked up the woman gently and turned to Cas. "This isn't over. We'll be talking about this later, Cas." He almost cringed at how much he sounded like Sam in that moment. "Let's go."

He placed the woman into the backseat of the truck and quickly climbed into the front seat. As soon as Cas was inside, Dean was speeding off.

* * *

Sam was rather pissed. He didn't quite know why or when it started, but he was furious, absolutely livid.

And just a bit scared.

Ruby had gone out for news on Lilith's movements and Sam had been left alone in the motel room after a successful job.

Then, just as he was booting up his computer, a ghost flickered into being in front of him.

Relying on instinct alone, Sam fired of a shot at the specter. Miraculously, the gun was a salt loaded one and it dispersed the spirit easily. It came back in seconds, though. Fuck.

He fired off another shot as he grabbed the box of salt from his bag.

He let out what equated to a battle cry as he charged the spirit, rage fueling him, moving him. He'd use his anger like Ruby taught him, maybe he'd be able to kill the Henrickson look-a-like.

If not, he'd finally be able to see his brother again.

* * *

When Ruby entered the room two hours later, it looked like a kitchen exploded. With salt scattered everywhere across the floor and knives embedded in the walls, Ruby was surprised no one had come up to investigate.

Sam sat on the bed staring boredly at the wall, the calmest he'd been in weeks.

"I see you met the Witnesses." She commented lightly.

"Is that what they're called?" Sam's voice was only barely curious, far cry from his usual mannerisms. Well, it was unusual for five months ago. Lately, he'd noticed that he really just didn't care much anymore, about anything.

"Yeah, their supposed to take the form of someone who's witnessed the supernatural and died. Who'd you fight?"

"Herickson." Sam's answer was short and clipped.

"Oh, yeah. FBI guy." She shrugged her shoulders at Sam's attitude. "Anyway, they were destroyed by a couple of hunters, like your friend, Bobby." That got Sam's attention.

"Bobby?"

"Yep," she grinned. "Him and a couple of other hunters destroyed them, or whatever. One of them is looking for you, though." Sam rolled his eyes.

"Bobby knows that I don't-"

"It's not Bobby." Sam's mouth snapped closed.

"Who-?"

"A hunter named, 'Nash Bradbury' and his partner 'Cas.'" She knew she had Sam's full attention now. "According to my sources, this 'Nash' is looking for you. Says you have something he wants."

Sam squinted his eyes as the thought, trying to figure out what he could have that this hunter could want.

"I don't get it." He finally decided. "What does he want?"

"I think he want the demon blade." She decided, as she pulled out said knife, examining the edges.

"But we kept that secret, even from hunters like Ellen. And Bobby'd never tell unless he could make more. No hunter should know about it." She raised her eyebrow and smirked. Realization hit him like a bus. "You think he's not human. But then, what would he want with the blade."

"What am I doing with the blade? Besides, lots of demons are looking for you and me, most from Lilith's side. Maybe this one's looking to kill her too, so he needs a weapon up for the job?"

"Not gonna happen." Sam growled lowly. Lilith was his kill, his revenge. After that, the world could go hang.

He'd make sure this pretend hunter was taken care of.


	7. In the Begining of a Legend

Sorry about the long-ish wait. I considered putting this story up for adoption but I ultimately decided that I want to continue with this story and see where it goes. But I digress, updates are gonna be few and far between.

Since I didn't address this in any of my earlier chapters, SPOILER ALERT! for Supernatural up to the season 10 finale.

Disclaimer: Blanket disclaimer. I can't claim any of this except the alias's they use.

PLEASE CRITIQUE ME. The compliments are nice and I thank you for them, but I wouldn't mind someone telling me straight up what the problems are with my story. Are there any gaping plot holes? Is it too dry? Should I add more thoughts? Do you want more Destiel? Less? Anything that could influence the story.

Also, Comment on any pairings you'd like to see come up in this story. I'll probably tie them in somewhere along the way. Any suggestions are also welcome.

Enjoy.

* * *

Dean sighed and wiped his hand down his face, tired from the day's events. He rolled his eyes when his hand came back with a thick layer of ectoplasm. It seemed as though his efforts earlier that day to wipe off that crap had been unsuccessful.

The hospital he was standing (loitering, actually) outside of was rather small, but they'd been able to patch Olivia up well enough. She had professed her thanks and told them she owed them a debt, one she intended to repay.

Dean couldn't help thinking about how ominous that sounded, almost like a warning or a threat. The only thing that kept him from freaking out at her was the complete sincerity in her voice. She honestly wanted to do him a favor in return and she meant anything.

Dean shuddered a he remembered the rather uncomfortable grope he'd received. When she said, 'anything,' she meant anything.

Cas was quiet as he stepped in his usually spot next to Dean. The blond looked closely at him while trying to dispel the images that Olivia's wandering hands had created.

The angel was slightly ruffled (probably Olivia tried to grope him, too) and his tie was slightly askew, though that wasn't incredibly unusual. He had a pensive look on his face and his fists were clenched tightly. Obviously, whatever he was thinking about was pretty big.

"What's crawled up your but?" Cas seemed absolutely startled by his sudden question. He furrowed his eyebrows.

"Nothing has-" he shook his head, likely realizing that it was just an idiom. "It's nothing."

"Seriously man," Dean replied with a raised eyebrow, "you should get whatever's buggin' you out in the open. Cause we're gonna have some words about your little self-sacrifice stunt earlier." He finished with a slight glare. Cas returned it steadily (to my disappointment).

"... As you wish." He agreed. "I was merely conferring with Olivia's doctor. He said that he'd read her records and she was missing some heavy damage to her stomach, kidneys, and liver. It appears as though my healing ability did more than I intended to."

"So, you're healing's a bit more powerful. So what?" Dean asked with creased brows.

"So, it does not bode well for my control these coming weeks." He added with a faint grimace. Dean nodded in sympathy.

"Yeah. Training's gonna suck." He shook his head. "Anyway. Want to tell what the hell that stunt was back there?"

"I was saving that woman's life." Cas responded adamantly, confidently. "I do not regret my actions."

"I'm not asking you to regret anything." Dean told him, frustration leaking into his voice. He released a deep breath, trying to calm down. "What I'm asking is...think things through and tell me the plan. Tell me how confident you are 'bout winning, and how much it's gonna hurt if you lose. I've lost a lotta people." He added quietly, scuffing his toe along the grey concrete underfoot. "Even if I can get 'em back and save 'em ... if you die now, Cas, I can't get you back. I don't wanna lose you, Cas."

Before Cas could respond, there was a loud RING! from Dean's phone.

"Yeah, Bobby?" Dean answered the shrieking device grudgingly. He listened to the man speak on the other end while Cas peered around the car-park. "Yeah. We're at St. Marion's Memorial Hospital. No, me and Cas're fine. Your friend Olivia's gonna need a buncha stitches, though...Yeah, yeah, yeah. Don't get all sappy on me Bobby. I saved her cause she needed to be. She's lucky you're such a stubborn old bastard, though... Yeah, you're right. By the way, how's Charlie?... I know she doesn't like being cooped up, but she needs more field experience before takin' on the bigger bads... Tell her she can go on smaller hunts with me or you for a few months, to test her. After that, will see... Yeah, will do. See ya."

"They have stopped the Witnesses?" Cas inquired with a tilt of his head.

"Yeah. Took 'em a whole two hours to find the right spell, but they ended up arguing about the organization system and hunting for like three, soooo..." He rolled his eyes at the antics of the two. "He says he has something he needs to tell us, though. Says it's real important."

As Dean headed toward the car he noticed the lack of anyone next to him. He turned around to see Cas standing in the same spot, squinting up at the sky.

"Cas!" The angel didn't so much as twitch. "CAS!"

His blue eyes finally swiveled to meet Dean's green. "I believe I would like to attempt flying us to Bobby's."

Dean stared at him for a moment, wide-eyed and slack-jawed.

"...What?" He spluttered. "I mean-What?! I thought you said your mojo was unreliable and you didn't want to splatter me to the wall?"

"I believe you to be durable enough that, if I did use too much power, you would not be destroyed."

"And where d'you get a gauge of my durability, huh?"

"From the gas station." His eyes bored into Dean. The blond in question merely squinted in confusion. "You were able to withstand my voice and you have gained these new abilities, as rudimentary as they are. Your strength and healing seem to be on par with my own during this time."

"...So you're sayin' I'm as strong as a 'non-archangel' angel?"

"Essentially, yes."

"...Fucking awesome. Well, c'mon. Let's go see what Bobby wants."

* * *

"You said you wanted to talk, Bobby?" Dean prompted as he settled himself into the couch with a beer. Charlie scowled as his feet pushed her chair away from the table. He smirked in response.

"Yeah." Bobby grunted. "I got some news from the hunter grapevine. Apparently, a pair 'a hunters named 'Nash Bradbury' and 'Cas' saved a crap load'a hunter today."

"So what?" Dean questioned with a roll of his eyes. "He doesn't know who we are. Oh well."

"No, not 'oh well,' Dean." Bobby glared. "Those hunters-"

"We have an idea, Dean." Charlie interrupted. Bobby gave her a look but she didn't relent. "No one but the angels know you're alive. Instead, what if a new hunter was talked about?"

"...What do you mean?" Dean asked slowly. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about, what if, like, instead of the demons hearing about Dean Winchester they hear about Nash Bradbury? They already know 'Nash' is looking for Sam."

"I like your idea." Dean agreed. "But there's a rather big whole in it. They'd know who I am just by looking at me."

"That's where Bobby comes in." Charlie replied with a smile, gesturing at the gruff older man.

"There's a spell that c'n hide your face from anyone who doesn't know." He said, holding an open book aloft.

"I call it the superhero spell." Charlie confided. "It's like, they only know your secret identity if you tell'em."

"That coupled with Enochian carved into your ribs would eliminate the angel's knowledge of you as well." Castiel interrupted.

"The perfect cover." Charlie finished.

All three turned to Dean. Charlie was smiling tentatively, Bobby's eyebrow was raised in question, and Cas had his usual deadpan stare.

"Why are you all lookin' at me? Isn't this a group decision?" Dean asked, a little disturbed by the deference of power. The three shared a look.  
"We've already decided." Bobby began slowly, like he was figuring out how to word something. "Now it's up to you."

"Oh, so I'm the deciding vote." He calmed down, willingly ignoring the fact that there were four of them and Cas hadn't had time to vote. "Well, I like it. I vote yes." He slammed his hand on the table for effect.

Charlie rolled her eyes and pulled her laptop open. "I'm gonna set up your fake background and contacts. We already have Bobby set up." She nodded to the old mechanic. "He's got a lot of clout in the hunter world, so his voucher already gives you some credit." She typed something into her computer. "Now if a hunter asks around about you, you've got some hunts under your belt."

"So...do I have to act a certain way or something?" Dean questioned. This would either be an amazing cover or fail spectacularly.

"No, but you have to know your background if you run into any other hunters." She turned to Bobby and Cas. "I'll have a folder made for all of you, but Cas, you don't need to remember most of it. I have a separate cover for you. You're Cassidy Wright. You grew up in Europe in a rather isolated town. It's to explain away your foreign aspect."

"Foreign aspect?" Cas was honestly and obviously confused.

"Yeah." Dean replied with a smirk. "First impressions with you don't go so well. You always weird someone out in some way."

"...I do?"

"Yep. Don't worry though." Dean added with a smile that Cas returned. "Once you get past that, you're a cool dude." Though puzzled by the words, Cas got the general meaning behind them and nodded his head in thanks.

"Anyway," Charlie interrupted with an eye roll. "You come over here, to the good old US of A, after a supernatural explosion in your little town destroyed your home and farm."

"A farm," Cas thought about it for a moment before nodding in agreement. "An organic farm. I believe that fits very well." Charlie looked inordinately pleased.

"Thank you. Anyway, Dean, you already know you're 'Nash Bradbury.' You're Texas born and bred, with a little sister named Charlene." She gestured helpfully to herself. "You became a hunter because your Uncle Richie became a werewolf and tried to kill you. You're little sister, moi, grew up all over the country and joined her brother in hunting after a stint as a cyber crimes officer in New York. We occasionally hunt together but I mainly research and point you in the right directions." She added this part grudgingly.

"Sweet."

"You can add stuff whenever you want, but you gotta tell me beforehand, so I can adjust your background info."

"Got it." He smiled, finished his beer, and stood up. "Well, as long as you don't feel like sending me into the past this time," he leveled a small glare at a guilty looking angel, "I'm gonna hit the hay."

"'Night!" Charlie called distractedly from her computer screen. Dean shook his head and smirked, nodding goodnight to the two men.

* * *

Dean dreamt.

The dream wasn't a particularly nice dream, but it wasn't really a nightmare so he wasn't complaining. It was rather odd though, and he suspected an outside influence. Maybe Lucifer or Micheal, or Hell, even Zachariah.

He dreamt he was in a plain, bare room. It was much like a hospital, except instead of a bed and a crappy TV, there was a beige couch and a white coffee table. There was nothing on the walls, save for a small brown stain much like a water leak on the ceilings of many of the motels he'd been to.

"This place is strange." A familiar voice said behind him.

Dean looked around. Cas stood behind him with a curious look upon his face as he peered around the room.

"Where are we, exactly?"

"This is your mind." Cas replied.

"You aren't doing this?" Dean asked warily.

"No. I believe this is a physical manifestation of your mindscape." (Well, that cleared things up so much. Thanks Cas.) He walked to the stain on the wall.

A gentle hand, rested itself on the stain as if it were touching the Mona Lisa. Dean felt himself jerk at the wierd sensation.

"Stop that!" He protested, using anger to cover up how uncomfortable he was.

"It appears I was correct." Cas said, ignoring Dean and nodding to himself.

"So, what's this 'mindscape' stuff? Some sort of magical meditation shit, or somethin'?" Dean asked, fake anger still lacing his voice. Cas nodded slowly, a deep frown present across his face.

"It is a place only generally found by those who meditate, yes. But it is by no means magical. Perhaps mystical would be a better word. It is puzzling as to how you have stumbled across it. I did not believe you practiced meditation."

"I don't." Dean told him wryly. "You think it has somethin' to do with my new superpowers?" Cas considered it for a moment.

"Perhaps. I will admit, that the stain rather puzzles me, though. I've not seen something like that before."

"Is it evil?"

"I do not believe so. It does not resonate with any sort of inclination."

"English, please?"

"It is neither good nor evil. It just is."

"Well, that's something, I suppose." Dean sighed. He shook his head and then turned to look at the room more thoroughly. "Do you think we could do our mojo training in here? Or do you need to practice in the real world?"

"I believe that this would be an excellent place to practice. It is not your psyche or your physical form so I do not have to worry about damaging either."

"...Well that's...good?" Cas nodded resolutely.

"This will be perfect." The angel shrugged off his coat and laid it on the back of the couch, rolling up his sleeves. "Now, we'll begin training tonight."

* * *

Read and critique. Please.


	8. Advisory Warning

Hey all,

I know you really didn't want to see this message, but don't worry, I'm not abandoning the story.

Like I said last week, I've decided to continue, but school life is getting a little hectic. What I intend to do is crank out a few chapters in between studying and post them when they're done. This may be a little difficult, though, just a warning. I might be silent for a month or more at a time.

So, I guess what I'm trying to say is, don't give up. I'll be back, I'm just going on a hiatus, I guess.

Also thank you to the kind reviewer last week. In response, though, I'd like to say I just feel like there's something off about my story, like maybe the characters are too flat or something.

Anyway, Laters!

Kai


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